Solo Win Some, Lose None

Calla runs into some luck at the misfortune of someone else.

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

Win Some, Lose None

Postby Calla Davin on August 1st, 2019, 6:15 am

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40th of Summer, 519 AV


"Five, annnd six...annnd seven. Annnnd..." Calla's tongue poked out of the edge of her mouth as she concentrated on the piece of parchment in her hands. She pinched along the seventh crease she just made before moving to make an eighth crease. The paper, however, had other plans. It refused to fold in half another time. "Well, shyke. Guess what they say is true."

Another day, another mundane circuit of deliveries. The courier needed something to keep her mind occupied, and, apparently, folding paper was just the puzzle she needed. She knocked on the door in front of her, pressing her shoulder into the frame as she waited for an answer. A few ticks later, a short, portly man answered the door.

"Letter for ya." Calla handed the folded piece of paper over to the man. His eyebrows immediately crushed together in annoyance. Before he could say anything, Calla threw up her hands. "Don't look at me. I got it like that." With that, she dipped back into the crowd.

Her bag was weighed down by one more package. It was a weird one, for sure; the box was labelled with a location where the recipient could be found instead of an address. "Frequents the Kelp Bar at all hours. Rotund man, answers to 'Flops.'" The courier picked up to a jog, excited to see what kind of man chooses to be called Flops.

She weaved in and out of the crowd. Calla was in the Sailor's Quarter, so the streets were wide enough for her to comfortably run if need be. She pulled her bag into one of her arms, tucking it under it so that it wouldn't obnoxiously thump against her side. Her foot was finally able to carry the full burden of her body, which brought a small smile to her face as she ran.

It didn't take long before she found herself outside the Kelp Bar. She poked her head inside, and, to her dismay, found no rotund man. "Flops?" Calla asked nobody in particular. When she was ignored by the few patrons in the bar, she shouted her question again: "Flops here?"

"Just missed 'im, lady." The bartender replied without looking up from the counter. Calla nodded her thank you and dipped back outside. It appeared that she had two options: come back later (annoying) or search for Flops in the area (also annoying). She had vague plans for the evening and nothing else to do now, so it looked like the final option was optimal.

Hands on her hips, the courier slowly spun. Before she finished a rotation, she spotted a crowd down closer to the waterfront. "Petch Flops." Calla muttered. Moving crowds were boring. But this crowd was stationary, and that could only mean one thing: drama. Flops could wait.

As she approached the crowd, Calla could hear some of the Zeltivans murmuring. Things felt somber. There was no laughter, no shouting. The more entertaining options for the source of the crowd fell away; it obviously wasn't a fire juggler if people weren't shouting. The courier pushed to the front, but immediately wished she hadn't.

On the other side of a small line of waveguard, a few dockworkers tried to pull a body out of the water. They were struggling due to the size of the body. Calla recoiled in disgust, frowning at the sight before her. She wondered if the body was that plump when it went into the water, or if the bay just bloated it. Mid-thought, an unfortunate idea struck her.

"Hey, hey!" Calla called to the dockworkers as she made her way closer to them. "You know who that is yet?" The workers nodded, causing Calla to roll her eyes. "Okay, that was me asking who that was."

"'Nother dockworker." One of the workers stepped forward as the body finally hit the dock.

"His name Flops?" Calla asked the woman in front of her.

"Yeah, actually. Ain't it ironic?" The woman laughed as she wiped sweat off her brow. "You know him?" Calla nodded mournfully.

"He and I were close friends." The courier cast her eyes downwards. She had to subdue a chuckle, so she transformed it into a small sob/sniffle type of thing. Thankfully, her head was pointed downwards so the dockworker couldn't see much. "Very, very close friends."

"Oh, shyke. I'm sorry. I ain't ever known Flops had a..." The dockworker looked back over her shoulder then stepped in between Calla and the body. "I'm sorry." Calla simply nodded, then turned away. The crowd parted for her as she went, and, for a brief moment, she felt like a god.

Last edited by Calla Davin on August 31st, 2019, 8:49 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Calla Davin
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Win Some, Lose None

Postby Calla Davin on August 1st, 2019, 8:41 pm

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It took all of Calla's willpower to not sprint into the nearest building. The rotund man, answers to Flops, who frequents to Kelp Bar at all hours was dead. He had no address, and neither did this package. That meant one thing: this box had no owner.

Sure, she could return it to the Spire. Farren would probably find whoever sent it and return it to them with his deepest condolences. Or Calla could keep it. Who would know the difference? Flops sure wouldn't. For all the sender knew, the drunk got the package before he flopped into the sea. Why let a good package go to waste?

Calla returned to the Kelp Bar and tucked herself into an empty table. It was still fairly empty inside, which made sense. It was still very bright out. Which meant that Calla could order a water without any repercussions. Her eyes glanced to the bar. The only bartender was busy tending to a different customer. Calla was only a little disappointed. The responsible side of her commanded her to go fill her waterskin before she dropped due to dehydration, but the fun, less-boring side told her to stay put. Since she was waiting for the bartender, she might as well kill some time...

The courier fished the box out of her bag and placed it in on the table. It was secured like any other package. Calla smirked as she shook it. It wasn't the heaviest package, but it definitely had some weight to it. At least it won't be a box of papers. Calla pretended it was a gift sent to her from somebody who loved her. She sunk her fingers into it and ripped the top open.

There wasn't anything on the inside that gave any indication of who sent it, or why Flops was receiving it. Well, supposed to receive it. All that was inside was a silver flask--and a cruddy one at that! Calla frowned. She already had two waterskins, and was not in the market for a flask. She unscrewed the top and looked inside. Empty.

The woman flipped the small flask over in her hands. It was rusty, but not in too detrimental of a way. It looked like it came off a ship, probably from a sailor who had gotten a lot of use out of it. The front had a symbol on it. Calla squinted, bringing it close to her face. It looked like...ripples? Maybe it was a logo for some water-chugging thugs.

"You find Flops?" A voice called from the bar area, causing Calla to start.

"Yeah. Thanks." Calla stood and crossed to the bar. "You ever seen this symbol before?" She kept a hand on the flask as she showed it to the bartender. She'd lived in East Street long enough to know that a hand needed to remain on things you wanted to keep at all times. The bartender shook their head. "Oh well. Can I get water in this then?"

The server rolled their eyes as they snatched the flask and retreated into the back. A tick later, the flask was back in her hand. The woman grabbed the empty box off the table before exiting the bar. Once outside, she dropped the box by the door.

It was another scorcher out, so Calla was glad she could return to her home. As she walked, she sipped from the flask consistently. She kind of regretted not filling her waterskins while she was there. Her apartment didn't have access to clean water, so she'd have to stop somewhere else on her way home or go back out later. Calla shrugged as she took a swig. At least then she'd have something to do. She hated being bored. It was all for the better then, not filling them at the Kelp Bar. That way, she would avoid the judgement and potential argument and have an easy errand to burn time with later.

Calla gulped down another drink. She looked down at the flask, impressed. It kept the water surprisingly cold. Not chilled, not ice cold, but it would do. To be fair, it wasn't that cold when she got it back. After another drink of refreshing water, Calla was sold. Originally, she thought the flask was a piece of shyke. But the more she drank, the more it grew on her. The water wasn't too warm like with other flasks, and it held a lot more than she thought it would.

As she reached her apartment building, Calla decided to test just how much the flask held.
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Calla Davin
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Win Some, Lose None

Postby Calla Davin on August 2nd, 2019, 9:36 pm

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Throughout her life, Calla has had a love-hate relationship with water. She loved that it kept her alive and hated that she had to drink it, basically. Her parents weren't the most vigilant or parent-y, so they never taught her that she had to drink water. It sounds stupid, but Calla thought water was like beer: drink it when you want, because you want. It wasn't until she passed out on the job one day that she learned the horrid truth about water.

Maybe when she was an evil genius she'd invent some better tasting alternative. Until then, Calla liked to make drinking water a game. The most popular one she would do was very simple: every time she thought about water or liquid, she'd have to take a drink. This often lead to an inescapable loop where she'd drink the water, think about the water, drink more water, and continue to think about it. This loop lead to the development of today's festivities.

Calla leaned against the shaded front wall of her building. With her new, not-so-shiny flask in hand, the courier tilted her head back and began to drink. She took thought out of the game's equation, because it just became frustrating only thinking about water for an indefinite period of time. So, she cut out the middle man, so to speak, and just made the game this: how fast could she chug a whole container of water?

Now, Calla had no sure-fire way of telling time. Instead, she used the people around her to judge time. She watched a pair of women as they walked by. Calla continued to drink as they passed three buildings, then four, then ten. Slowly, the woman began to become weirdly aware of her lungs. They ached. Calla squinted as she continued to chug. 14 buildings, and now the women were barely visible. Panic began to set in as water continued to flow out of the flask, running down her chin and throat as she became unable to swallow any more.

Calla threw down her hand, dropping the flask on the ground. She dropped to the ground, coughing and wheezing. Her face turned red as she held back the intense urge to throw up. On the ground, the flask continued to pour water out onto the street.

When the nausea and coughing subsided, Calla picked up the flask. "What the petch?" She brought it to her face and peered inside. It was still full. Her eyes widened. Flipping the flask upside down, Calla watched as it poured out a seemingly endless amount of water.

"Flops, you son of a whore." Calla chuckled in amazement. She was slowly piecing it together...why a drunk would want this flask. Why somebody wouldn't want the Kelp Bar figuring out why said drunk stopped paying for beer but was still drunk. For a moment, Calla wondered if she should take her new magic bottle inside. After all, things like this don't just appear out of nowhere, and they certainly don't disappear without somebody noticing.

Calla stuck her head under the flow of the water, letting it soak into the hair at the back of her head. She closed her eyes as her stringy hair became soaked and began sticking to her face. After this, she'd hide the flask somewhere. Let it lay low until the city forgot that Flops ever existed, which she was sure would take no time at all. For now, though, she doused herself. As she sat in one of the most brutal summers she'd ever seen, Calla let the coolness take control of her consciousness and wash all her worries onto the pavement.

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Calla Davin
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Posts: 128
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Win Some, Lose None

Postby Calla Davin on August 31st, 2019, 8:33 pm


Special Delivery!


Calla :
Skills XP
Acting 1
Investigation 1
Observation 2


Lores
  • Paper can only be folded in half seven times
  • Random gatherings of people = drama
  • Investigation: Keep asking until you get your answer
  • Acting: Sobs can hide laughter
  • Acting: Feigning sadness
  • Flops: The rotund man who frequents the Kelp Bar at all hours is dead
  • East Street: Keep your hands on things you don’t want to lose
  • Water: You have to drink it
  • Free Flowing Flask: It never empties!


Additional Comments: Please message me if you have any questions about your grade, and don't forget to edit your post in the grade request thread.

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User avatar
Calla Davin
Retired Staff
 
Posts: 128
Words: 102738
Joined roleplay: June 25th, 2019, 7:44 am
Location: Zeltiva
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Featured Thread (1)


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